Madness Under Duress
by Serpentine13
Summary: This is an account of the Dark Lord's most faithful servant during her unbearable stay in Magical Europe's most notorious prison, Azkaban. One-Shot.


**Madness Under Duress**

 **AN:** My lyric prompt for Round 11 was "Hold me in your arms, tonight," from the song _Hero_ by Enrique Iglesias. My optional prompts are **6\. (word) blink** , **7.** **(restriction) the whole fic can only take place in one room** , **14.** **(creature) Dementor**. Special thanks to Corvus Draconis for editing and giving some enhancements to my story.

* * *

 _Azkaban Prison, North Sea, Great Britain, 1982_

Cold, dark Azkaban. I hate it here, being stuck in a cell with nothing but a hard cot and a latrine. It feels like I've been here for years, though I know it has only been months. I want out-out-out-out!

"AAAHHHHHHH!" The primal sound tore through the stone halls.

My eyes snapped open, and I look to the barred door, still visible in the dimness, heart beating with renewed vigor. 'A _scream... It's usually so quiet here, hearing this is like… a breath of fresh air._ '

My chains gave a slight jingle as my hands tighten on the itchy, woolen blanket and the need to let go, to unleash myself on someone swept through me. "I want to hear more," I whisper into the empty cell. Sometimes, when sea became restless, I could hear the sound of waves washing against the rocky island. Nothing quite beat a good, despairing scream though.

Closing my eyes once more, I withdraw back into my mind to look back on my most treasured memories. Torturing, killing, terrorizing—these were the manifestations of true freedom. My Lord taught me this, and He was right, there is nothing like the rush of power one gets from conquering others. ' _Someday, I'll be free again and able serve the Dark Lord once more._ '

"My Lord," I breathe, recalling His dark countenance brings a smile to my lips. The pathetic sheep of the wizarding world might believe Him vanquished, but I know differently. ' _The Dark Lord_ _is immortal, and He will return_.'

The chill in the air seemed to intensify.

' _He will come for us, His most faithful. It is only a matter of time._ '

The satisfaction, hope, and feelings of triumph brought by my reminiscing started to slowly drain away, and I hear a faint drawn-out, raspy breath being drawn. I shudder before opening my eyes again.

There, clutching the bars of my cell with its clammy, scabbed hands floats a Dementor, staring at me with its eyeless gaze. My lips automatically curl in disgust at the creature, I can't help but think of a leech as the hole in it's face sucks at me.

I reinforce my occlumency defenses to ward off the fiend's hungry mental assault. Its hooded head tilts slightly at being denied a snack.

"My Lord will come for me, creature. My stay here is only temporary, and you'll get no meal out of me," I hiss at it, hatefully.

It continues to look at me for a few more moments, unnervingly, before turning to drift off to the next occupied cell.

"I am Bellatrix, most trusted and favored of the Dark Lord! He will come for me! I WILL NOT DIE HERE!" My shrieking voice echoes, and I hear some distant calls from other inmates responding to my outburst.

Lying back down on the hard cot I stare at the door, my anger spent, and eventually I start to fade. The last thing I feel is a drop of wetness sliding down from the corner of my eye. ' _I am alone._ '

* * *

 _Azkaban Prison, North Sea, Great Britain,  
Years After Incarceration_

An eternity has passed, and I've completely lost track of how long I've been here. My hair is still black; I suppose that means it hasn't been decades. I gaze dully at the ceiling, too tired to even think—too indifferent.

At some point along the way I had stopped daydreaming of glory, of escaping and reuniting with my Lord. My occlumency protects me against the Dementors' direct assaults on my emotions, but it doesn't restore hope. It doesn't give me amusement. It doesn't draw blood.

' _Blood that I can feel._ ' My index fingers rub against my thumbs in longing.

"Poor wittle Bella," my mouth mocks in a sad, child-like tone. "You've got no bodies to pway with."

' _My Lord will come for me,_ ' I chanted in my head. It was the mantra that held my only hope and all that remained of my sanity. Subconsciously, I gently stroked the Mark which He bestowed upon those who follow Him. It shows all that I have a place to belong, an intimate link between master and servant and the proof that He yet lingers in this world. The Mark had faded, but my faith in Him had never truly left. It was like the Mark. It was forever branded into my skin—my soul.

I was about to drift off to sleep when I shocked awake by a burning sensation in my arm. I yelped in surprise and immediately clutched my limb, then there was a slight tugging sensation in my abdomen… it was a summons.

' _He's back_!' A manic smile stretched my mouth as glee filled me like pumpkin juice poured into dry, empty goblet. Running to the barred entrance, I thrust my skinny arm through the bars and into better light to examine it. The Mark had darkened once more! Cries of surprise resounded through the prison and made their way to her cell.

"The Dark Lord!"

"He wasn't slain!?"

"We're going to be saved!"

Amongst the voices of jubilation also came some of fear and trepidation, though. ' _Cowards_ ,' I raged. Deciding to give my own voice to this discordant chorus, "Rejoice! Our Lord has returned, and He will welcome those of us who remained loyal back into his fold! Beware, those who doubt and defy the Dark Lord, you will not be spared!"

The torchlight suddenly dwindled and ice began to creep across the floor and the bars. The yelling was dying down and a crushing presence made itself known, absorbing the warmth and joy from my very bones. Dementors. They swarmed through the hall, like locusts to a ready crop. I fled to my cot away from the beasts, snarling and hiding behind my feebly crafted occlumency shields. It was like a boat in stormy waters though. I couldn't keep this many Dementors at bay, for more than a few moments. Like a dam, the creatures burst through and utter despair clouded my mind.

"NOOOOO!" I screeched, before curling into a shivering, inconsolable ball of misery. My vision swam, and I vomited the dregs of my last meal of gruel before losing consciousness.

* * *

 _Azkaban Prison, North Sea, Great Britain, 1996_

I looked at my favorite wall. It was the closest to me and helped me to still my mind day after day and month after month. I've lived in this cell as long as my family's home. I giggled at that.

"Home, sweet home," I sang to the emptiness. I feel okay now, I used to feel like I was going a little more crazy than usual. The Dementors were relentless in their feast the night of my Lord's resurrection, I felt like I was being swept away, like dust in the wind. Dust…

It was nightfall again, I think. The wardens should be here with my meal soon. ' _Mmmm, I'm hungry_.' I wet my lips, thinking of delicious meals being served outside. I hear a hiss at my little room's door, turning over I see the Dementor sliding my small meal through the meal hatch. It then simply turned to glide away.

I'm hungry, but I don't want to move. I feel so gaunt, so crippled, so ugly. ' _I hate it_ ,' I seethe in sudden fury, teeth grinding… Then it's gone. My mind is just ponderously blank, ' _Why was I angry_?'

Before long my attention is drawn once again to the food and, groaning I roll myself onto the cold, hard floor and begin crawling my way to the tray, ' _Just a few more feet_.'

After what felt like ten minutes, I finally reach my destination, panting with the effort. I shakingly reach for the bowl of broth with my skeletal hands and grip it.

"It's still warm!" I practically sang.

I smile in joy, before bringing the bowl to my lips to take a gulp. The taste of watered down beef is delicious, better than the usual gruel on weekdays. Gulping the rest of it down, I move for the cup of water and take a sip. Refreshing.

Some minutes later, I finish and start dragging my light, yet oh-so-heavy carcass back to bed, gripping a slice of bread on which I nibble every few inches I manage to crawl. I feel full, pouting as I make it to my sleepy nest. Looking up at the edge of the bed, intently, I manage to push myself to my bony knees and crawl up before collapsing and just laying there. I feel accomplished.

"Aha haha HAHAHAHA!" I fall into hysterics, as I remember the true feeling of accomplishment. _Crucio-_ ing an audacious, but worthy opponent. Alice Longbottom. "Stupid wench," I whisper, sneeringly.

 _BOOM._

The whole fortress shakes from the force of something unknown. My eyes widen in confusion. ' _Earthshake_?'

Then there was mighty crack of thick stone being rent and some distant wailing from my fellow prisoners. ' _If it was an earthshake, I think we'd be drowning in water by now..._ ' I reason to myself.

"Earthshake, earthquake, we'll all get happy milkshakes!" my voice sings into the darkness. " _Crucio, Crucio_ , my happy little junco!"

A few moments later I hear a mix of relieved and horrified crying not far from my cell. ' _Dementors_?' Then the sound of footfalls… ' _Footfalls?_ ' I frown in further confusion, lifting my head from the bed. ' _Dementors don't walk, though.'_

There, a figure steps from the corner where stone meets bars. Silhouetted against the torchlight, stands a tall, humanoid being. Tall like a Dementor, with wispy, dark robes, but no hood. ' _It is bald?_ ' I resist the urge to snicker, watching it stride to the door of my cell. It turns and a red-eyed gaze meets mine and I can't help but flinch at the complete lack of humanity I see there. My Mark gives a twinge, as though in recognition, and it dawns on me just who it is I am seeing.

"M-my Lord," I croak. Tears fill my eyes and blessed clarity finds me once more. With a undignified cry, I leap to the floor and prostrate myself before Him. I can feel Him studying me, like a cat watches an interesting mouse. The silence is deafening, there is only Him and me, and as the seconds press on I begin to shake. I am afraid He sees me as a broken tool now, useless. ' _Please, please don't leave me here._ _ **Please**_ _,_ ' I think at Him in desperation.

" _Bella._ "

I gasp as I hear him croon my name. I dare to glance up at Him in hope. 'He looks so different, so… His eyes, though lacking in any compassion, glow with satisfaction and amusement. ' _He isn't disappointed in me?_ '

"Bella, how could I be disappointed with my most loyal, most treasured person?" He questioned in a low voice.

I dropped my face back towards the floor in red-faced embarrassment and shame, ' _His skills in Legilimency, I'd forgotten how omnipotent he is._ ' "My Lord, I am weak and broken now." I shut my eyes in self-loathing. "Worst of all, I wasn't there to assist you in your time of need—"

I broke off with a sob that I quickly stifled. ' _I must not appear weaker than I already do,_ ' I think to myself, biting my cheek and tasting the flow of blood.

He doesn't say anything for a time. "My Lord?" I queried.

"What is broken can be fixed, Bella, and while you may be weak now it is nothing that cannot be remedied." I lifted my face once more, feeling overjoyed at his confidence in me. He cast a silent Cutting Curse at the door's latch and another at the hinges.

CLANG.

Freedom!

My Lord stepped over to my prostrated form as I watched Him. My stomach constricted and my chest felt warm. With a blink, I looked away again and heard Him crouch next to me. I felt Him put His arm around and under me and then lift, it was as though I weighed less than a feather to Him. My throat was dry and I was just barely able to keep my composure.

' _My Lord..._ '

He held me to his chest, the silken fabric of his black robes brushing against some of my bare skin, his spindly fingers gripping me almost painfully. I feel at peace and secure as He holds me in his arms tonight. I look around my cell one last time before we vanish in a silent apparition, leaving a broken, empty prison behind us, from which there has never been an escape before. It was another testament to the power wielded by my immortal Lord and Master, Voldemort.


End file.
